


you just don't seem to notice

by Laii



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF, dreamnotfound - Fandom
Genre: (the greer song), Confessions, DON'T SHARE WITH CCS THANKS, DreamSMP - Freeform, George's POV, How Do I Tag, I named his dog bean., Inspired by: Bye Bye Baby, Inspired by: heatwaves, M/M, More tags to be added, RPF, Slow Burn, Unrequited Crush, Yikes, being written into a relationship, don't fucking test me., falling in love with your straight ??? bestfriend, might add some background relationships in to spice it up., on your roleplaying mc server??, or I will delete, wish gogy luck :/, with the man you happen to be in love with?????, you never know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:49:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27888568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laii/pseuds/Laii
Summary: Dream lets out a strained sigh. George can hear a poorly disguised smile and bitten back laugh in the short huff of air.George taps his fingers against his desk.ring-finger. middle-finger. pointer-finger. ring-finger. middle-finger. pointer-finger.“I’ll call you when I wake up.” He decides.“Alright.” Dream says.OrGeorge is into Dream. Like really.One problem though:All signs point to Dream being straight.Very straight.So straight he writes himself into a relationship with George on the smp.It is a (very straight) problem.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 271





	1. to end with you and i

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted pretentiously write about minecraft youtubers. This is a fic featuring DreamNotFound, if you are uncomfortable with that please leave this page. Don’t share this with the CC’s. Be respectful.
> 
> ...
> 
>   
> _Inspired by Heatwaves (the fic) and Bye Bye Baby (the greer song)._

He pulls down his headphones and hangs them around his neck. A chill creeps up his spine. He rolls his shoulders to chase it away. 

The ache in his back spikes with the movement, his shoulders are tense from hunching while coding. His eyes are dry from the bright white of his monitors. 

“George?” Dream’s voice is low and quiet. Neither of them had said anything for a few long minutes. 

“Yeah. ‘M hear.” George mumbles as he grinds his knuckles into the corners of his eyes and wipes at his temples with the balls of his palms. 

“We should pick this up tomorrow, huh?” Dream asks, his voice has an amused lift to it.  
“It’s only twelve.” George stretches his arms behind his desk chair. His shoulders _crack._

“George,” Dream half laughs. “If your tired you should sleep. Just call me when you wake up.”

George half-smiles at the discord call. “Maybe.” He fights through another yawn. 

Dream lets out a strained sigh. George can hear a poorly disguised smile and bitten back laugh in the short huff of air. 

George taps his fingers against his desk. 

_ring-finger. middle-finger. pointer-finger. ring-finger. middle-finger. pointer-finger._

“I’ll call you when I wake up.” He decides.

“Alright.” Dream says. “Eat something.”

“Whatever,” George mutters. Dream’s resulting laugh is cut short when George disconnects the call. 

He sits in the silence for a moment, staring at his now blank left-most-monitor. His fingers drum against the soft of his mouse pad, bouncing on the sore tips of his abused nails. 

_ring-finger. middle-finger. pointer-finger. ring-finger. middle-finger. pointer-finger._

[]

His hands are pressed into the counter. The island lip is curved and fits flush with the bend of his palm. 

He traces the patterns of the matte-marble countertops while he waits for his leftovers to heat up. His kitchen is quiet. There’s the dull ticking of a clock and muffled noises that filter in from the street outside- but other than those small, minuscule interruptions there is nothing but the unnoticeable clicks of his dry eyes blinking and the shallow sounds of his own breath flowing. 

He takes his phone out of his pocket, suddenly craving noise; suddenly wishing he had just taken Dream into the kitchen with him, and presses shuffle on his Spotify.

His thoughts are accompanied by some Mother-Mother song he doesn’t care to remember the name of. His fingers drum against the countertop in no correlation with the music that streams quietly from his phone speakers. 

_ring-finger. middle-finger. pointer-finger. ring-finger. middle-finger. pointer-finger._

He looks over at his microwave as the bright, rectangular numbers count down to one. The machine lets out its loud bleat and George pushes away from the island to pull his food out of the countertop microwave. 

The plate burns his hand and he swears as he drops it down onto the electric stovetop with a sharp clang. He takes to shaking out his hand and nursing his burned fingertips. 

He eats leftover lasagna with some song containing an electric guitar and soft cymbals droning on quietly from the phone, left abandoned on the island.

Once he finishes he dumps his plate and scoops up his phone. 

_|2 missed imessages: dream|_

He lets the phone scan his face and swipes with his thumb.

_|gn gog.|_ and _|actually sleep. if any coding is done tomorrow ill >:(|_

George rolls his eyes. 

_|yeah yeah. gn dream.|_

George slips his phone into his sweatpants' pocket and pads to the bathroom.

He runs his hands under the sink water and scoops it with his palms, throwing the cold back up into his face and letting it drip down his nose and chin before he runs a long, square palm down his face to push it away.

He wonders, not for the first time that night, if he'll even be able to sleep when he lays down. Or if he even wants to sleep if it means he'll dream.


	2. all i wanted was to look into your eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey, George.” Dream is watching the big, picture window that looks out on a sunset and a long white plane. His side profile is vague and general, with a bumped nose and a sharp chin and jaw. 
> 
> They’re in an airport terminal. 
> 
> “Hey, Dream.” George says, straightening his back to even out the difference between them as best he can.
> 
> “Airport?” Dream asks, he’s amused. George scoffs, rolling his eyes.
> 
> “Guess so.” Outside the window are palm trees and thick, bright grass; a similar looking shade to the hoodie Dream has his hands hidden away in. 
> 
> “Florida.” Dream looks over at him; his eyes are perfectly placed, his cheekbones are high. “We’re in Florida.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not following the plot of the smp in this. I mean this ever so nicely but everything is so confusing. I will be trying my hardest to make it applicable to the current state of the plot? I am one simple person. Everything changes so fast. Dream, George, and Sapnap will be my main go to characters because I am one person and there are so many of them.

Someone sits beside him. He’s broad-shouldered and long torsoed. 

Somehow, in his dream, he knows it’s Dream.

George is staring at his face, trying to decipher the blurry, text-book white man he sees beside him. His eyes are light and his hair is shaggy and blonde, cropped to lie piled on his forehead and curling behind his ears. 

“Hey, George.” Dream is watching the big, picture window that looks out on a sunset and a long white plane. His side profile is vague and general, with a bumped nose and a sharp chin and jaw. 

They’re in an airport terminal. 

“Hey, Dream.” George says, straightening his back to even out the difference between them as best he can. 

“Airport?” Dream asks, he’s amused. George scoffs, rolling his eyes. 

“Guess so.” Outside the window are palm trees and thick, bright grass; a similar looking shade to the hoodie Dream has his hands hidden away in. 

“Florida.” Dream looks over at him; his eyes are perfectly placed, his cheekbones are high. “We’re in Florida.”

“Said I wanted a ‘ticket to Dream’s house’.” George reminds. _Liar!_ Dream had shouted during that stream, laughing.

Dream doesn’t say that now; he just watches the sun set abnormally fast, glinting off the plane bodies. Moments pass. 

“You’re stalking me.” George lets out a dull laugh. “Haunting my dreams, are you?”

“Haunting implies you don’t like it.” Dream wags his brows. They’re darker than his hair, thick and shaped. 

“I don’t. You’re horrible.” George reminds.

“You tell me every day.”

“Good. I should.” George glares. 

Moments pass heavy as the sunset fades into a dark blue night. “So, why am I here?” Dream asks, his voice is distant, and when George glances up Dream is across the terminal, standing by the ticket-check-desk and spinning his phone in his hand. 

George watches it go up and around, up and around.

“You’re not.” George decides to say. “You’re not here.”

“Well maybe _I’m_ not, but _I_ am.” Not-Dream amends. “Anyway- answer the question, George. Don’t avoid me.” He’s giggling, it’s somewhere hidden in his distant voice.

“You know why you’re here, Dream.”

“Spell it out for me.” Dream rolls his dark eyes over at George; an exasperated look thrown his way to match Dream’s tone. 

“No reason to.” George shrugs. “I’m dreaming.”

“How do you know that?” Dream asks. His phone rolls; up and around, up and around between his index-finger and thumb.

“Stop that. You’ll drop it.” George says sharply. He sits back in his cushioned chair, rubbing his palms on his knees and pushing back his shoulders. “Making me nervous.”

“Don’t avoid the question!” Dream confronts in his joking tone. His height shifts, his face, his hair, his nose, his body- he’s George for a moment before he’s back to the tall, nondescript man George’s brain has designated to represent Dream.

“I know I’m dreaming because I see you.” George sighs. “You don’t let me see you. And I’m here.” he gestures vaguely. 

“Florida.” Dream says fondly.

“I guess. Yes.”

“This doesn’t really look like Florida.” Dream says, looking out the window at the changed scenery. “Not my part of Florida.”

The window isn’t showing a dark sky and vague outlines of planes anymore, now it’s a beach scene, with white; sandy beaches and waters that are more yellow than blue. Big, thick palm trees with deep-colored leaves block parts of a sunny sky. 

“Probably something I’ve seen online.” George shrugs. 

“The colors look weird.” Dream mumbles. “Brown.”

“ _I_ saw it, Dream.” George defends. 

Dream shrugs. Sending him a wicked grin that matches the bite of his laugh.

The sun brightens and dims. “Why are you here?” George asks. 

“Thought _you_ where supposed to answer that.” Dream says with a cocked brow. “It’s your dream, Georgie.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I’m a bit confused on that issue.”

Dream flickers to look like George again. 

“No. I don’t think you are.” George’s double says before it snaps back to Dream.

“You should wake up, George.” Dream says, softly, fondly. “It’s time to wake up.”

[]

George’s phone rings, cutting through his dream even though the ringer was off when he fell asleep.   
He lies there for a long moment before he throws out his hand, palming for his phone on his bedside table. 

Dream’s contact stares back at him. George glances at the time before he accepts. 

_09:24_

“George! George!”

“What do you want?” George groans into the cold air of his bedroom. He flips around and pulls the blankets up higher on his shoulders. He then proceeds to pillow his arms under his head and tuck his nose into the crook of his elbow. 

“Did you just wake up?” Dream laughs, loud, boisterous. Like he does when they film. George bites back a smile under his arm.

“Nah, been up ages.” He lies. Dream doesn’t buy it. 

“C’mon, George.” Dream sings. “Get up and make breakfast!”

“Why do you care about my breakfast?” George glares. “Why are you calling me, anyway? Waking me up from my _very_ peaceful, relaxing sleep-”

“I’m bored.” Dream whines. “I need you, George. You entertain me!”

George stretches his lower back and legs in a painful movement. He must have slept weird. “I’m not entertainment.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” Dream says, he sounds distracted. Fabric rustles against the phone speaker. 

“What’ah you doing?” George asks, raising his chin to rest on the soft part of his bicep. 

“Patches has decided I’m paying too much attention to my phone.” Dream informs. “Isn’t that right, kitty.” His voice goes up an octave. George smiles, biting the inside of his lower lip. 

“Good cat.” George praises, closing his eyes and smiling fondly. 

“Rude.” Dream mutters. 

A moment passes where George lets his eyes fall closed again, he could almost fall asleep like this, with the knowledge Dream is listening to him. Silent. Present. There.

“You gonna get up or not?” cuts through his silence. George lets out a long-suffering groan. 

“Dream.” He huffs sharply once his dramatics have faded out and Dream’s brief bout of laughter has ceased. “I’m tired.”

“You went to sleep like nine hours ago.” Dream informs. “That’s more than the recommended amount of sleep, George. I can rightfully, morally, and ethically wake you up.”

“Shut up.” George snickers. “Just shut up.”

“C’mon.” Dream whines. George sighs loudly. “Get up. Get up. Get up. We have to code.”

“D’nt want to.” 

“If you get up I’ll send you a face-pic.”

“No, you won't.” George sends a harsh glare to his phone. 

“Yes, I will.”

“No you won't.” George sighs, tucking his head back into the circle of his arms.

“No I won't- but I’ll spam you with memes.” Dream concedes. “I’m in my camera roll right now, George.”

“Oh fuck off, Dream.” George groans. 

Dream laughs, hardy and deep. 

Moments pass where George thinks Dream might let him drift off into a new bout of sleep.   
“Get up.” 

George groans, slamming his forehead down on his pillows. 

[]

George’s phone is set up against his coffee maker while he eats cereal standing up. Dream is rambing about his plans for the SMP script and his latest writing session with Wilbur. 

“Did you sleep at all?” George asks, checking his time and quietly counting in his head. “Dream! It’s like four there-”

“I took a nap.” Dream defends. 

“Christ.” George scoffs around his spoon. 

Dream laughs, even though there’s no joke said.

“Where are we taking the server?” George asks. He chases the final pieces of soggy cereal around his bowl. 

“Tommy’s gonna freak out and attack you. We get a friends to enemies arc. I’m gonna go god complex. It’s gonna be fun.”

George laughs. “You’ve already got one of those.”

“Life imitates art.” Dream makes a noise, “art imitates life? Which one is it?”

“You had it right, you idiot.” George snickers.

“Yeah, well… shut up, George.” 

“I don’t think I will.”

“I’ll make you.” Dream insists. George stills, his spoon half lifted over his bowl.

He makes himself laugh. “What a’h you gonna do? I’m here. You’re there.”

“Well yeah duh I’m _here_ , but someday I’ll be _there_ and then I can make good on it.” 

“Someday could be pretty far away.” George mutters, thinking about an airport terminal 4,000 miles away and Florida being the covid epicenter of the world. 

Dream’s quiet for a long, drawn-out moment. George dumps the remaining milk in his bowl down the sink. 

“You could be right.” Dream says. 

George shrugs. “We’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah.” Dream says. “Yeah. Hey, I’m gonna shower. We’ll finish the coding in a bit, ok?”

George watches his phone. “Yeah. I should too. We’ll do discord.”

“Yup. Talk to ya’ later, George.”

“Bye, Dream.”

“Love you.” Dream says. There’s a smile in his voice.

“You’re an ass.” George scoffs. 

“Oh c’mon!” Dream laughs.

George hangs up.


	3. don't mean it that way.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream breathly-giggles, “try to sound _less_ into it, George. You’re really selling it.” He deadpans.
> 
> “Shut up, Dream.” George scoffs. 
> 
> There’s a moment of stillness.
> 
> “You are cool with it, right?” Dream asks. He yawns: big and over the top.
> 
> “Why wouldn’t I be, Dream?” George sighs. Anxiety swirls in low in his stomach with the lie.
> 
> “Just… you know.” Dream says. His voice tapers off. 
> 
> _“George is the friend who’s like- secretly gay.”_

Hot water drops down the sharp bridge of his nose. 

He’s washing the conditioner out of his hair, slicking it back out of his face. 

Bean wines outside the shower-tub. Her little nails _clack-clack_ on the small, shining grey tiles as she scampers around. 

His roommate is at work, so she follows him around religiously. Sitting outside rooms and nipping at the backs of his heels. 

He has to ignore her cries as he finishes washing up.

Dream’s ringtone cuts through the white-noise of the falling water. George paws for his phone on the windowsill beside the shower. 

Bean barks; loud, shrill, and George hushes her while he turns off the water and accepts Dream’s call. “I’m literally in the shower.” George says into the receiver, reaching for his towel.

“Prove it.” Dream jokes, moving on before George can get in anything more than an exasperated huff of breath, “I just got out. Let’s code.”

“Give me a minute, god- Bean!” George sends a disapproving glare at the dog. She wags her tail up at him as he runs his towel through his hair and wraps it around his waist. Bean barks again. 

“How’s that training going?” Dream asks, amused.

“Just amazing.” George lies. “Really great.”

“I can tell.” Dream chuckles. A moment passes while George makes his way to his room and starts getting dressed. “You know how I was writing with Wilbur’n Techno?”

George pulls his hoodie over his head and turns back to his phone. “Yeah?”

“There’s this other plotline we’re interested in. I thought it would be… uh… kinda fun?” Dream doesn’t sound _nervous_ as much as he does cautious.

“Yeah, ok. What one?”

“Well, we were thinking of turning us against each other.” Dream says. “But my character is doing it because he cares about your character- like he’s pushing you away so you won’t be in danger.”

George watches his phone with a tensed lower back. “Oh, alright.” 

“Like… I take you off the throne.” Dream poses, “because you’re getting attacked, and I do it to help you; but you see it as me betraying you, my character's plan backfires, and we end up on opposite sides of the next fight.”

“Opposite sides.” George lets out a relieved breath. He was worried it would be-

“But my character is obviously still in love with yours, right? Like, its the only thing he actually cares about, so your side uses you to get to me? It could be fun. Wilbur and Techno are having fun with it.”

George blinks. “Yeah. Uh- fun. Sounds good.” He swallows, “you know I’m not _that_ good at roleplaying, right? It seems like this is relying on us.” 

“We’ll work on it.” Dream says. “But that sounds… fine, though? No objections?”

“It’s just roleplaying.” George lies. “I’m fine with whatever role you have me play.”

“Sick.” Dream says. George can hear his smile. 

George takes a moment to look up at his ceiling and count to ten, because fuck:  
How stupid is he?

[]

They finish coding a _Minecraft But_ … video. George pulls Bean up into his lap and watches as Dream hops around their testing server while a hoard of different sized spiders chase him in circles. 

“You gonna stream today?” Dream asks. His avatar places blocks as it runs, landing on them to pick up speed in getting away from the spiders. 

George, whose gamemode is still in creative; and therefore has no reason to worry about the spiders, turns his character's head to watch Dream get hit off his cobblestone. “Not tonight. Sapnap is though, I think.”

Dream hums.

“Why?” George asks. 

“Dunno. Kinda wanted to.” Dream’s voice is quieter than usual. There’s a false mask of nonchalance, but George can hear through it. 

“On the SMP?” George asks.

“No. Actually, I was thinking about speedrunning.” Dream starts polling up, away from the mobs chasing him. Spiders start rising up the growing mound of cobble.

“Speedrunning?” George tries to mask his surprise. “You haven’t speedrun in a while.”

Dream makes a noncommittal noise. “Just haven't felt in the right mood, you know?”

George does not know about the speedrunning mood and it’s comings and goings. He does, however, understand that sometimes the internet can bully you out of your favorite hobbies. “Yeah, no, I understand.”

“Wanna be on a call with me while I do?”

“Of course.” George automatically agrees. “What time?”

“Dunno. I’m gonna take a nap, so after I wake up?” Dream asks.

“Sure thing.” George agrees. Bean rubs her nose against George’s ankle and wines for attention. He bends over to rub at the space between her eyes. 

“I’m gonna call you on my phone.” Dream says. “Hold on.”

Discord lets him know Dream’s left their call and George turns off his computer. His phone buzzes.

George picks up. “Are we gonna sleep call?” He jokes. Dream chuckles, George hears water running and splashing from the other end of the line. 

“Guess so.” Dream hums. George starts tapping on his keyboard, opening a discord message from Karl; another goddamn TikTok with that _“Meow- why did I meow, why did I meow- kitty, you better not be dead-”_ Quackity-audio their fans have been loving recently. 

“Are you on TikTok right now?” Dream asks, his words are obscured. George hears harsh noises and decides Dream must be brushing his teeth. 

“Karl sent me a video.” George clicks off the fanart of them as cheerleaders. “He’s such a weirdo.”

Dream giggles before he spits. “Kitty, you better not be dead… if someone hit you with their car I’ll chop off their head…” He mumbles under his breath. 

George rolls his eyes at the speaker.

Silence stretches for a minute. There’s fabric rustling and faint grunting from the other end of the line. George leans back in his chair and watches Bean’s chest rise and fall from her space curled up on his bed. He had tried to train her out of it, but at this point he didn’t care all that much. 

George looks back at his discord DMs with Karl. 

_karl✨:  
|havb you talked to wilb/techno|_

George looks down at his keyboard, then back up at the message. 

_Gogy:  
|not in a bit why?|_

_karl✨:  
|u know bout their plans for the smp|_

_Gogy:  
|?? what ones|_

_karl✨:  
|u n dream|_

_Gogy:  
|dre told me. vaguely|_

_karl✨:  
|u cool w it right|_

_Gogy:  
|ofc. just roleplay|_

_karl✨:  
|whtever u say|_

“Who’re you talking to?” Dream asks. George lifts his hands off the keyboard just as Karl sends another message.

_karl✨:  
|if your not comfy w something ill v discreetly tell wilb you know that rite|_

 _A concerned party_. George thinks. He doesn’t respond to Karl’s message. “Karl.” George answers. 

“Rude, George.” Dream tsks, “during our riveting discussion.” Something clicks from his end before George hears sheets rustling. 

George looks up at his ceiling. Thinking Dream might be looking at a similar thing above his bed. 

“What’re you thinking about?” Dream asks in his calmer, off-camera discussion tone.

“Nothing.” George mutters. “You?”

“Dunno.” Dream’s voice is flat, measured. Sheets rustle. “Nothing, I guess.”

George looks back down at his phone, then over at his bed.

\--Is Dream laying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling? Is his phone balanced on his chest, just over his sternum? Over his beating heart and chest-raising breaths?

Is he on his side, curled around a pillow, forehead buried in the crook of his elbow? His phone in the empty space beside him?

“Think we’re supposed to be talking.” Dream says, his voice is incredibly soft. each time George experiences this Dream he feels all sorts of wrong, like this isn’t something he should have, something he should hear.

“Think so.” George agrees. 

“What did Karl want?” Dream asks, there's a sniffing and shifting from his end of the line.

George thinks of what to say. Honesty is the best policy. “Just talking about the script.”

“Oh.”

“He was surprised about whatever you guys came up with for- you know, the _us_ plot.”

Dream makes a humming noise. “Dunno. Thought it was subtle.”

“Haven’t read it yet.” George states, listening to Dream shift to get comfortable.

“We see each other; you from your side, me from mine, and we just kinda stare at each other for a minute. Eret comes up and asks me what’s up. I say ‘nothing’. He looks back at you and over at me. That kind of thing.”

“That’s pretty subtle.” George agrees, he bites his lip. “Uh. Yeah.”

Dream breathly-giggles, “try to sound _less_ into it, George. You’re really selling it.” He deadpans.

“Shut up, Dream.” George scoffs. 

There’s a moment of stillness.

“You are cool with it, right?” Dream asks. He yawns: big and over the top.

“Why wouldn’t I be, Dream?” George sighs. Anxiety swirls in low in his stomach with the lie.

“Just… you know.” Dream says. His voice tapers off. 

_“George is the friend who’s like- secretly gay.”_

“You know.” Dream says again. “I dunno. But _you know_ , right. Like, I understand if...”

George shuts his eyes tight. “Don’t be an idiot.”

“Right, I’m the idiot.” Dream mutters. His voice is deeper and slower. A low rumble in his chest as he quietly laughs at George. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping?” George asks as he finally responds to Karl.

_Gogy:  
|i would if i was|_

“Sleep is stupid.” Dream mutters. 

George rolls his eyes up at his ceiling. “Go to sleep, Dream.”

“Mmmm.” Dream hums. “Make me.”

George laughs, “okay.”

Dream beaks into a new round of wheezes, “What?”

George rolls his eyes. It really wasn’t funny. “Go to sleep.” He orders with a laugh trailing his words. “Right now.”

“Speedrun sleeping.” Dream giggles. George can feel his sleep-drunk voice like a breath stocking the fire in his gut. George’s anxiety swells as he laughs.

“Sure, Dream. You idiot.” George says, in a way that proves he doesn’t really think Dream is an idiot. 

“Dream a dream and get us out… dream-dream-dream-dream-dream-dream.” Dream mumbles through breathy giggles.

“Oh my god.” George scoffs. 

[]

George doesn’t hang up for a while, even after Dream starts to snore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally made it to some plot. 
> 
> Reminders: do not share with the CC's. stream Bye Bye Baby by Greer. I'll update when I feel like it :). Kudos are appreciated; it is free.


End file.
